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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27458194">earn it</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtiwasanarchitect/pseuds/dreamtiwasanarchitect'>dreamtiwasanarchitect</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Champagne, Clubbing, Established Relationship, Fisting, Hotel Sex, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Canon, Semi-Public Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:15:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27458194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtiwasanarchitect/pseuds/dreamtiwasanarchitect</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You want me to split you open on my hand?” he murmurs.</p><p>“Yes,” Joe hisses.</p><p>“Hmm.” Nicky bites his earlobe. “Then you’ll have to earn it.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>209</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>earn it</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for this kinkmeme prompt:</p><p>"Sub!Joe asks for a particular sex act that they’ve done before but don’t do very often. They both enjoy it but maybe it’s really intense or something?</p><p>Dom!Nicky says if he’s going to do something nice for Joe, Joe has to earn it and ‘prove’ he’s still good enough to be Nicky’s. Nicky plans a night out at a few different locations, and at each place, Joe has to do a specific submission-related task (or let Nicky do it to him). </p><p>If he does everything Nicky wants, the night will end with what he wants. If he fails, well, Joe knows Nicky will still give him what he wants anyway, but it’s more fun this way and he likes trying to be good for Nicky while Nicky pushes toward his limits.</p><p>+1 for lots of orgasm delay/edging"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nicky’s hand catches Joe’s eye. </p><p>They’re doing the washing and desperately trying to scrub the gore off of several favorite garments. Dabbing gently at the sleeve of a woman’s sweatshirt, Nicky’s hand looks especially broad. </p><p>He notices Joe staring. </p><p>“What, do I still have blood on my neck?” </p><p>Joe swallows. “No. Just, ah…your hands.”</p><p>Nicky glances down, then back up at Joe. Joe can tell Nicky knows what he’s thinking by the way his jaw clenches. He flexes his fingers and Joe bites his lip.</p><p>Nicky smirks. “This is the part of me you lust for?”</p><p>“It is a part of you I haven’t had in some time.”</p><p>Nicky’s pupils dilate when he grasps Joe’s meaning. He lets the sweatshirt drop to the floor and closes the space between them.</p><p>“You want me to split you open on my hand?” he murmurs.</p><p>“Yes,” Joe hisses.</p><p>“Hmm.” Nicky bites his earlobe. “Then you’ll have to earn it.” He pulls away and goes back to wiping the viscera from Nile’s hoodie.</p><p>“Nicky, how?”</p><p>Nicky doesn’t so much as look up. “Patience, my heart,” is all he tells Joe.</p><p>———</p><p>Nicky avoids him the rest of the afternoon. Joe isn’t even sure where he’s gone off to when he wanders into the kitchen, where Nile is stirring some pasta.</p><p>“Not mac and cheese again?” he groans.</p><p>“Not for you,” Nile tells him, defensively. “Nicky said you two were going out?”</p><p>Joe frowns. “Have you by chance seen Nicky?”</p><p>“Last I saw, looked like he was heading for your room.”</p><p>Joe thanks her and scurries off.</p><p>Their room is unfortunately Nicky-less, but Joe spots a note on the bed.</p><p><em>My love, </em>it reads.<em> Put on your best clothes and meet me at our favorite restaurant. Do not bother with underwear. </em></p><p>Joe’s “best clothes” at this particular safe house are tailored grey trousers and a navy blazer over a button-up. (He takes care to leave the top two buttons undone.) </p><p>Nile looks him up and down and whistles when he passes through the kitchen. </p><p>“Enjoy your macaroni,” he calls on his way out. </p><p>———</p><p>He’s already feeling a little worked up as the maître d’ shows him to their table. Nicky’s fondness for playing games of passion often gets neglected due to limitations on their time and energy, but when given the opportunity, he devises some truly tormenting scenarios. </p><p>Speaking of torment: Nicky looks devastating in a fitted shirt and jacket. He’s even wearing a <em>tie</em>. </p><p>“You look particularly ravishing this evening,” Joe says as he sits down.</p><p>Nicky smiles over his glass. “As do you, my heart.” The wine has stained his lips red, adding greatly to the overall effect. </p><p>“But,” Nicky continues, “I’d rather see you on your knees.”</p><p>“That can certainly be arranged.”</p><p>“I meant now.”</p><p>Joe feels his eyebrows shoot up. “Now?”</p><p>“Yes. Under the table.”</p><p>The restaurant is fancy enough to have relatively long tablecloths, and it doesn’t hurt that their table is tucked into a corner, but—</p><p>“Now,” Nicky tells him calmly. “Hurry, while no one’s looking.”</p><p>Joe ducks under the table. He only needs to shuffle forward once before he’s between Nicky’s knees.</p><p>With one hand, Nicky undoes his pants, and with the other, he guides Joe’s head to his crotch. </p><p>Joe takes him in his mouth. When Nicky pushes both of his hands behind his back, Joe gets the hint and clasps his wrist, already frustratingly hard. </p><p>The tug of Nicky’s hand, now tangled in his hair, sets the pace. He can feel his face getting messy from his own drool and Nicky’s leaking. </p><p>Joe starts a little when the server comes to take their order, but Nicky keeps him from moving away. He orders for both of them, somehow managing to sound completely calm even though he’s virtually fucking Joe’s throat. </p><p>Order placed, Nicky pulls him off. He nudges Joe’s knees with his foot and Joe takes that as his cue. </p><p>He resurfaces on the other side of the table. Nicky is a little flushed, and his pupils are blown wide, but he still looks impressively composed.</p><p>Joe doubts the same can be said for him, something Nicky confirms with a satisfied little smirk.</p><p>“Wipe your chin,” he says casually. “You look a mess.”</p><p>———</p><p>After the longest dinner of Joe’s very long life, Nicky drags him to a nightclub.</p><p>“And how will you be torturing me at this venue?” he asks as they sidle up to the bar.</p><p>Nicky laughs and kisses him, then leans back to sip his gin. He’s surveying the dance floor like he’s lining up a shot, which Joe thinks is unfairly sexy of him. </p><p>“There,” he says suddenly, and Joe follows his gaze. Nicky’s looking at a man who, at least from a distance, looks a bit like himself—brown hair, pale white skin, broad shoulders. </p><p>Nicky looks over to Joe. “I want you to go dance with him.”</p><p>“Okay,” Joe says slowly, unsure of where this is going. Historically, they’ve not had great luck with bringing in a third party.</p><p>“Make it good,” Nicky tells him. </p><p>“The dance.”</p><p>“Yes.” He kisses Joe’s jaw. “I’ll be watching.”</p><p>Joe swallows and pushes his way through the crowd.</p><p>The music is pulsing loudly enough that he doesn’t try to talk to the man—he just makes eye contact and telegraphs his movements as he comes to dance against him. </p><p>The man wraps his arm around Joe, one hand almost on his ass. Up close, there’s not actually much resemblance to Nicky, but then, really, who could ever compare? It’s strange, being touched like this by someone who isn’t Nicky, but it’s no hardship. The man smells nice—expensive—and he’s a good dancer.</p><p>He glances back to the bar, and even from all these feet away, the intensity of Nicky’s stare changes the tenor of this little exercise, whatever it may be. Joe doesn’t look away as he places one of the man’s hands in his curls and grinds their hips together. He feels the man gasp in his ear, but he’s mostly focused on how Nicky looks like he wants to eat him alive. </p><p>Nicky wants a show? That’s what he’ll get.</p><p>Joe snakes a hand under the man’s t-shirt, then dips it just under the band of his jeans. He undoes two more buttons of his own shirt and watches Nicky’s face as the man gropes his pecs.</p><p>Nicky gives a sudden jerk of his chin, the movement exaggerated so Joe will catch it even at a distance. Joe looks to the man and makes a face of regret, then hurries away, back to Nicky. Luckily, Joe is too turned on to feel guilty about using the guy.</p><p>———</p><p>Outside, Nicky shoves him up against an alley wall. </p><p>“Do you know how you looked in there?” he hisses in Joe’s ear. </p><p>“Uh. Hopefully good,” Joe manages to gasp while Nicky sucks on his neck. </p><p>“So good. So shameless.” He grinds against Joe, then takes two deliberate steps back.</p><p>Joe whines. All he gets for sympathy is another smirk. “You still want to take my hand, hmm?”</p><p>Not so much out in a public street, but Joe knows what they say about beggars. “Yes. Please, Nicky.”</p><p>“Then I want you to save me some effort. Turn around and pull down your pants.”</p><p>And he’s just going to have to trust that Nicky will prevent them from getting a public indecency charge. </p><p>When he’s done as asked, Nicky steps to stand beside him. “Hold out your hand.”</p><p>Joe does, and Nicky produces a small tube of lube from his trouser pocket. He squeezes some into Joe’s palm.</p><p>“Get yourself wet and open for me. Three fingers.”</p><p>The position is awkward—he’s got one hand braced against the wall and his trousers are trapping his ankles, limiting the spread of his legs—but Joe manages. He goes as fast as he can manage, knowing that the sooner he’s done, the sooner he’ll get what he’s been working toward all night.</p><p>He’s careful not to brush his prostate—he’s hard enough as it is. By the time he pushes the third finger in, they’re both panting. </p><p>“Have I earned it?” Joe asks, desperate.</p><p>Nicky bares his teeth. “Almost, my love.”</p><p>———</p><p>His love is a cruel, cruel master, Joe thinks as he follows Nicky to their next destination, feeling the wetness between his cheeks with every step. </p><p>When they arrive at a hotel, where Nicky kisses him breathless in the elevator, he revises that opinion—only to reconsider when he sees what’s on the bed.</p><p>Nicky helps him undress. “On your back,” he says, giving Joe’s ass a squeeze.</p><p>It feels a bit like walking the plank. Once he’s down, Nicky begins tying his wrists to the headboard. Did he pick rope just to draw out the entire process and test the limits of Joe’s depleted patience? Most likely.</p><p>Nicky catches sight of the look on his face and laughs a little. “Oh, you look so despondent.” </p><p>“I am,” Joe says. “I have given my heart to a wicked, merciless man.” </p><p>“That’s me.” Nicky kisses him sweetly on the lips and checks the ropes for give. </p><p>As he sits back to admire his work, there’s a knock on the door. Joe expects him to tell whoever it is to fuck off, but instead he goes to answer it. </p><p>Nicky opens the door all the way. The room isn’t large, and Joe can see the hotel staffer from his bound position on the bed. Which means the poor staffer can also probably see him, or at least his naked legs. </p><p>She hands Nicky something, and with a thanks he closes the door behind her before sauntering back to Joe.</p><p>“Fucking hell, Nicky—” </p><p>“What?” Nicky says innocently. He’s holding a bottle of champagne. Joe fixates on Nicky’s hands as he pops the cork.</p><p>He takes a sip directly from the bottle. “Mm. Very nice. Care for some?”</p><p>“Depends. What year is it?” </p><p>Nicky pinches his thigh.</p><p>“All right, go on then,” Joe says, and Nicky tips some champagne into his mouth. It is, in fact, very nice.</p><p>Then he drizzles it in Joe’s clavicle, pours it over his chest, spills it over his cock. Nicky follows the trail of liquid with his mouth, slurping it off and licking Joe clean. </p><p>“Fuck, Nicky, your <em>tongue</em>—”</p><p>“Mm, Joe, it tastes even better like this.” Nicky licks a long stripe up his cock.</p><p>“Nico, please, please—”</p><p>Nicky looks up at him, amused. “Do you even know what you’re begging for, anymore?”</p><p>“Your hand,” Joe says quickly. “Please.” </p><p>Nicky cuts off his pleading with a kiss full of tongue. He tastes like champagne.</p><p>Then he lifts one of Joe’s legs over his shoulder and pushes the other to sprawl open. There’s another (larger) tube of lubricant on the nightstand. Nicky pours a generous amount over his hand and presses a single finger in. </p><p>“Ah, fuck, Nicky, come on, I’m already open enough for more—”</p><p>Nicky stills the movement of his finger. “I am deciding what you are ready for. And if you keep insisting you know what is best, I will decide that you are not ready for my hand tonight, after all.” </p><p>That shuts Joe up, mostly because Nicky’s commanding tone and harsh words have aroused him to a point beyond speech. He lets his head flop down to the pillows and screws his eyes shut while Nicky opens him.</p><p>When he finally gets around to adding a fourth finger, Joe’s writhed so much his wrists have rope burn. </p><p>“I won’t even need to touch your cock, will I?” Nicky muses. </p><p>“No, Nico,<em> fuck</em>, I’m going to—I’m going to come on your hand, fuck—”</p><p>Nicky pulls out to squeeze another gush of lube over Joe’s stretched hole and his own hand, all five fingertips joined together at a point.</p><p>He works his hand in steadily, the pressure going from barely noticeable—Nicky’s preparation, as always, had been very thorough—to intense as Nicky’s knuckles nudge against his rim.</p><p>Joe puts all his effort into relaxing his muscles, even as his arms are straining so hard against his bonds he thinks they may snap off. Finally, Nicky’s knuckles push through, and from there it’s easy—his entire hand is in Joe.</p><p>Nicky flexes a finger and a knuckle rubs at Joe’s prostate. He sobs.</p><p>“Nico, fuck, I feel all of you, <em>everything</em>—”</p><p>Nicky mouths at his chest. “You’re so hot around me, so tight.” Another minute twist of his hand. Joe howls.</p><p>“So close, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Yes, yes,” he pants.</p><p>“Come for me,” Nicky says, and the brush of a single knuckle is Joe’s undoing. He comes all over his chest, and Nicky chases the the trail of it with his tongue.</p><p>“Ah, shit,” he hisses, tying to squirm away from Nicky’s tongue. “Sensitive.”</p><p>Taking pity on him, Nicky moves off the bed and heads into the en suite, returning with a glass of water.</p><p>“Here.” Joe drinks obediently.</p><p>“I notice you’re not untying me.”</p><p>“Very astute.” Nicky’s eyes glint dangerously. “I am going to keep you here until you are ready again, then I am going to ride you until you pop like the champagne cork,” he purrs. </p><p>Joe’s spent cock twitches and his mouth is dry. “Fuck.” </p><p>Nicky brings the glass back to his lips. “Drink up.”</p>
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